I am an orphan girl myself,
And that my knitting you may see,
Here is a mitten that I've knit—
Excuse my gushing, girlish glee.
Now, there was another young lady who was treated with scant courtesy by the author of Locksley Hall, and she, too, has written a reply to the love-sick ravings of the young poet:—
COUSIN AMY'S VIEW.
SCENE—The neighbourhood of Locksley Hall.
Enter Lady AMY HARDCASH (ætat. forty), with a book of poems and several children.
LADY AMY loquitur.